Plus One
by the-enigma-machine
Summary: If the only way to get Sonic's thoughts out of his head was to melt, Metal was prepared for the inevitable. Yet, when the very one Metal was trying to avoid saves him from his untimely demise, Metal has to reconsider who Sonic is to him. (For Metonic Ship Week)


The pain wasn't his nor were the sensations of scent: the burnt fur and the scorched flesh. The charred cloth and the molten steel.

Or rather, that last scent was his, but the sensation was not. He was a robot. Metal Sonic could feel nothing himself.

Nothing, that is, except for Sonic.

To his side, rocks rolled down the edge of the cliff, jumping along the shore at the bottom where they skipped and splashed into the sea of molten rock.

The magma, having already consumed his legs, lapped at his torso. The level was rising, or else he was still sinking, and once the lava reached his head, reached his hard drive, it would all be mercifully over.

The pain would be over.

"M-metal—grab ahold of my hand!"

The hand, and the words that accompanied it, hung in the air above him like smog, just as choking and suffocating as the smoke from the magma.

Metal was weak with damage, and yet, he still found the power to swat Sonic's hand away. He could not speak, but he knew Sonic would hear.

 _There is only one Sonic._

Given Sonic's sudden, horrified gasp, he had definitely heard.

"N-no excuses," Sonic coughed, inhaling a mouthful of dirt. "You're coming with me—"

Sonic lunged forward. Metal would have recoiled, but without legs, there was nothing to recoil with, and so Sonic managed to clutch Metal's head with both his hands. His gloves had largely burned away, and his fingers were charred, knuckles white with the strain of lifting Metal.

"Come on!" The soles of Sonic's shoes left streaks of molten rubber across the cliff. But with another heave, Sonic pulled Metal up and into his arms, carry him like a sack of potatoes.

Metal could feel it: the heat of his armor burning Sonic's side.

"Sonic—you're an idiot!" Knuckles rushed to the edge of the cliff and thrust his hand out, grabbing Sonic by the scruff of his neck. He heaved, and with a single pull, Sonic and Metal went flying out from the pit.

Metal hit the ground with a hissing, wet smack. Ice sizzled all around him, evaporating into steam as the glacier melted.

Sonic dropped beside him with a much softer thud. He was smiling. "Everyone lives. That's my number one rule."

Metal Sonic had the ability to hear. It was one of the few senses he could claim as his own; although right now, there was nothing to hear but Tails and Knuckles babbling. It didn't really matter though. The specifics of their chatter were but whispers against the cacophony of Sonic's pain.

 _You hurt yourself_ , Metal said over their connection, _for me. But I am not real._

"'Course you're real!" Sonic said aloud, earning concerned grimaces from everyone else. "Why—you saved the president and the old man, didn't you?"

Black smoke poured up into the sky, tendrils of smoke twisting up and through each other like ethereal phantoms from the lava pit.

 _That is incorrect. You saved them_ , Metal said. _That was your impulse. Tails—_

Sonic laughed, a weak, coughing laugh, and yet there was still a deep, inner strength to it. He pulled himself up, leaning up on one arm to smile at Metal. "Tails—pff. You're the one who saved 'em. That was all you."

 _No. It was you. It could only be you. There is only one—_

"Listen." Sonic inched forward, just enough to lay his fingers over the back of Metal's hand. The sensation of Metal's smooth, cool armor leaked into his perception from Sonic's side of the connection. "You're not my copy, okay? Sure, you might look like me, but you're not. You're your own person."

Metal started to tremble. If only he could blame it on his damaged systems, but that wasn't the source. He knew that.

 _That is not the problem. It has nothing to do with that. It is this—_

Metal pressed his finger to Sonic's chest. He still couldn't feel anything himself, but he could feel what Sonic felt, and right now, Sonic was focused on the pounding of his heart.

Metal brought his hand back to his own chest. _It is this. Our connection. It is what you feel. Yes, there is only one Sonic._

Metal pressed his fingers to his forehead. _And he is inside my head._

Sonic blinked. "That's it? You wanted to melt simply because we're connected?"

 _It is not precisely this but—_ Metal shook his head. _When Tails forced your thoughts into my head, I could not tell what was sourced from myself and what was sourced from you. It was a terrible feeling. As if I did not even exist._

Sonic sat up. He tried to lean back on his palms, but as his burned hands touched the dirt, he winced.

Metal winced too.

"This doesn't just go one way, you know. You're in my head too. And if you're in my head too, doesn't that prove you have your own thoughts? Doesn't that prove you're real?"

The ice had finished melting long ago, so now Metal was laying in a puddle of water. Wanting to retain a semblance of dignity, he heaved himself up on his forearms.

 _So you do not mind our connection? It does not bother you to hear my thoughts inside of your own mind?_

Sonic laughed, a deep, vibrant laugh that filled the air across the glacier. "Mind it? I think it's pretty neat! Makes us something special, you know?"

 _You really do not mind._ Sonic wasn't lying to him. He couldn't, not with the connection. _How odd._

"Hey." Although Sonic had stood up, he was squatting down, offering his hand to Metal. "Look, Mets—I know a lot of crazy stuff just happened, but I promise, things will work out. Tails'll fix you up, better than new I guarantee, and I'll show you around South Island. There's a whole bunch of really neat things out there, and I promise you'll love 'em."

For the first time since leaving the lava pit, Metal stared at his own hand. Some of his fingers had fused together into a slab of solidified steel, and a good number of chunks were missing from his copper paneling.

And Sonic—he was hardly better off himself. His gloves has burnt away, and great, deep burns covered his knuckles like lichen.

Sonic offered his hand to Metal.

So it really didn't bother Sonic to share his own thoughts with Metal, to have Metal share his thoughts with him. Sonic actually meant it when he said their connection was special.

The burns on his hand proved it.

Metal placed his hand, the one that still had fingers, into Sonic's palm. He braced himself, steadying for the inevitable pain to spew across their connection.

But there was no pain. Only an immense, deep sense of relief

There was something else too.

Was it...joy?

It was joy. Sonic took joy in their connection. He saw it as something to celebrate.

Maybe that meant their connection was something to celebrate after all. Metal would never be have to be alone again.

Sonic would always be with him.


End file.
